


Your brother’s keeper

by estelna



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:39:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9523589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelna/pseuds/estelna
Summary: Greg knows Mycroft isn’t as strong as he thinks, and he would have taken care of him no matter what.Was supposed to be a short fluff but turns out there are more chapters coming dealing with Mycroft and Greg after TFP.





	1. A broken man

**Author's Note:**

> The first Sherlock fanfic I publish (surprisingly scary).  
> I own nothing (the bank even owns my flat), and all mistakes are my own (no beta, so if you find something serious let me know)
> 
> The original inspiration for this was this wonderful drawing  
> http://nodadraws.tumblr.com/post/155924646913/make-sure-hes-looked-after-hes-not-as-strong

Greg looked at Mycroft sitting on the stairs outside his house. The elder Holms looked like a broken man. Greg had been briefed as best anyone could apart from Mycroft, John and Sherlock, even with a few words with John that didn’t really give a good picture of what had happened. Greg sat down next to him. Mycroft looked up at him, the hurt in his eyes broke Greg’s heart. He moved his hand to Mycroft’s knee. “Don’t, please. I can’t be touched now." Mycroft's voice was thick and broken. Greg pulled his hand away but moved just a bit closer so he could feel Mycroft's body heat.

“Aren’t you cold love? Should we go inside?”

“I can’t go inside, I was, I’m numb. This is entirely my fault people are dead.”

“It’s not your fault.” Respecting Mycroft’s boundaries and not wrapping his arms around the man was hard. “If you don’t want to stay here do you want to come to mine?” Mycroft hid his face in his hand and shook his head.

“I don’t disserve to.” Mycroft often avoided things because he thought he didn’t disserve them. Sometimes it made Greg’s blood boil. There were so many things for strange reasons.

"Don't I deserve to take you home?" Greg had found a way around it, Mycroft always puts others ahead of himself. "There was the explosion, and then this. I deserve to be sure that you are safe for a night." It was true, he did deserve to take his lover home after something like this, and he had promised Sherlock.

“I’m sorry Gregory, of course.” Everything about his manner looked hollow as he got up.

“Thank you, the car is just around the corner.” Mycroft said nothing as they walked, nor did he look up. His back was hunched over and all air of confidence was gone. Greg opened and closed the door for him, this was going to take more than a pot of tea. "Sherlock is fine, and so is John.”

"No thanks to me." Mycroft leant his head against the car window.

“Love…”

“Gregory just, don’t, not now.” Mycroft snapped and turned up the music. It had to be bad if Mycroft turned up Greg’s music. Greg got Mycroft into the flat, out of his coat and onto the sofa. As Greg got to the kitchen he wasn't sure what was best. So he put the kettle on and found a bottle of whisky. He poured them both two fingers of whisky and filled a teapot of Mycroft's favourite tea. With everything ready he sat down next to Mycroft. Greg poured a mug of still too warm tea and tried to give it to Mycroft who was trying to make himself as small as possible. "A woman is dead because I couldn't kill a man whom would probably have died anyway. It wouldn't even have been the fist time I killed someone. I have more blood on my hands than you can imagine, but even the thought freaked me out. An innocent woman died" Mycroft pulled his long legs into the sofa and held the mug close to his chest.

“You have never killed in cold blood.” Mycroft looked up at Greg. “When you do something at work it is for the greater good, to make sure that the rest of us are safe. From what John said this was killing for sport, for an experiment. And that is not the sort of man you are.”

“And now someone is dead, a lot of people are dead because I gave my sister a Christmas present. I almost had us all killed just because I was unable to keep the same professionalism in my private life as in my personal life. I wish Sherlock had killed me, I thought he would when he knew what I did, it should have been easy." The mug was shaking in his hands, Greg took it from him and put it down.

“Don’t ever.” Greg pulled Mycroft into a hug whether he wanted to or not. “Don’t you ever say that, don’t ever even think it, don’t ever wish you were dead.” Mycroft stopped fighting the hug. “You couldn’t foresee this. No one can blame you for trying to make it easier on your parents, to shelter Sherlock, to treat your sister with what kindness you could, for not killing someone.” Greg kissed the top of Mycroft’s head. “That is just the man I love, a good brother, a good son.” Mycroft had melted into Greg’s arms and was crying silently. “I love you so much, I don’t know what I would do without you.” Greg could feel the younger man shaking.

“Don’t let me go.” Mycroft mumbled in a shaking voice against Greg’s chest.

“Never” Greg just held Mycroft, kissing his head and stroking his back. They had been through a lot together. Sherlock's drug use, Mycroft's eating disorder, Greg's divorce but Mycroft had never been like this. Greg had a feeling Sherlock knew they had a relationship when he asked him to make sure Mycroft was looked after. Mycroft had always taken more forensic countermeasures than a smart serial killer to make sure Sherlock didn't find out. Greg was glad that game was over, even if Mycroft did it to protect Greg's friendship with Sherlock. After a long time Mycroft wrapped his arms around Greg’s ribs and squeezed. It was as if Greg could feel him trying to rebuild every wall that had come crashing down. When he let go and pulled away from Greg’s arms he downed the whisky in one go. “Maybe we should get you out of your jacket.” Greg pushed away Mycroft’s jacket and west. The suite was like armour to Mycroft and Greg didn’t want anything to stop him from getting into Mycroft’s head and heart.

“I don’t know how to fix it, I don’t know how to do anything. There is so much work to do.”

"You are the most brilliant man I know. Right now all you have to focus on is yourself. There is nothing to fix until we know you are all right." Greg rested his hand on Mycroft’s neck and kissed his forehead. "Whatever it is, whatever you need, you are not alone."

“I can’t think Gregory, I can’t. All the things I’ve done, it must all have been wrong.”

“Mycroft, love, stop.” Greg rested his head against Mycroft’s forehead. “You are going to stop thinking, even that big beautiful brain of yours is in shock.” Even Mycroft knew that was true, if he hadn’t he would have taken it as a horrible insult. “You have been drugged, and put through some serious trauma, how about we get some sleep.”

“I don’t think I can sleep.” Greg gave the younger man the second glass of whisky, who drank half of it.

“How about we go to bed and get some rest at least.” Greg got to his feet. Mycroft looked up at him with empty eyes. "Come, love, I need some rest as well." Mycroft downed the rest of the drink and took Greg's hand. It was as if Mycroft wasn't really there as Greg led him to the bedroom and undressed him. Greg looked for any damage he hadn't expected thankfully he found none. “Bed.” Greg kissed Mycroft’s shoulder. Mycroft got into bed and Greg curled up next to him listening to his heartbeat.

"I asked Sherlock to aim for it." Greg tilted his head to see Mycroft's face. "My heart, even if I don't think it is much of a target." Greg kissed his lover's chest and put his head down again.

“There is nothing wrong with your heart love.” Greg’s voice was soft and soothing. “It sounds perfect. I know I share it with Sherlock but I don’t think you should give it to him like that without talking to me first.”

“It might be broken.” Mycroft’s voice broke. Greg moved and pulled the other man into his arms.


	2. Walk in the park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the feedback so far, it is so lovely. There will be another bit up tomorrow, I just have to do a job interview first. 
> 
> I drafted this when I was in London, it was supposed to be an observation exercise, turns out I have no self-control.  
> I hope you like it!

Greg found Mycroft sitting in Regents Park looking across the water. Some birds were making enough noise to drown everything else out, but Mycroft didn't seem to notice.

“I thought you were going to see Sherlock.” Greg sat down on the bench next to Mycroft and watched an old couple holding hands as they walked past. He wondered if they would be like that some day.

“I am, I was, it’s not that important.”

“Have you talked at all?”

“Yes, it took us two minutes to start arguing about out parents and what we should tell them. I would rather not do that again.” Greg stroked his arm.

“You’ll have to eventually.” A group of seagulls flew by, probably scared by the jogger who looked like he was about to have a heart attack any moment. “Have you eaten?”

“Ow don’t you start.” Mycroft snapped, he didn’t intend to. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his head was pounding.

“It’s a lunch invitation love.” Greg let his hand rest on Mycroft’s knee.

“I’m sorry darling.” Mycroft’s gaze followed a lone swan gliding by. “I’d love to, in a bit. Could we sit for a while?” Mycroft covered Greg’s hand with his own. None of them were scared of the signs of affection. You are never as invisible as in a public place where no one stays for long.

"Of course." Mycroft held on to Greg's hand as they sat there. Greg studied the people while Mycroft watched pretty much everything else. Greg understood why. Ones he had asked Mycroft what he thought about a couple walking by and even faster than Sherlock Mycroft deduced more than Greg thought possible. It was tiring. Studying people was not a guessing game to Mycroft, it was an endless bombardment of information. Not at all what you want from a trip to the park. Mycroft had, for the first time in all the time Greg had known him, taken some leave. Leave guarded fiercely by Mycroft's assistant who screened all his calls and made sure nothing disturbed him. She was wonderful. It had taken her a long time to grow to like Greg, to be sure that he wasn't just using Mycroft and would hurt him. She was loyal to Mycroft and it always made Greg feel better to know that she was watching out for Mycroft when he couldn't. Greg studied Mycroft, his long delicate fingers around Greg’s hand, the tired lines around his eyes, he looked perfectly relaxed but tired at hell. Beautiful. Greg watched Mycroft’s mouth curl into a soft smile.

“Are you watching me?” Mycroft was still watching the birds gliding past in the pond.

“I spend a lot of time watching you.”

“See anything interesting?” There was a sarcastic tone to Mycroft’s voice. Greg knew that the elder Holmes still wondered why Greg found him beautiful. After the business with Moriarty they had decided it was the two of them, with Sherlock gone they had no natural meeting point, so they had to make a decision.

“A man I love profoundly. You are so wonderful.” Mycroft met Greg’s eyes, the sun lit up his face.

“You are so much more then I deserve darling, please never leave me.” Everything looked brighter out here in the sun than it did when they were curled up at home, but it was an illusion. A large part of Mycroft's world had come crashing down around him and he was clawing for stability and forgiveness.

"I won't, just don't try to shield me from things. We are partners remember." It was a promise they had made a long time ago, not to shut the other out and to help each other shoulder whatever came, no matter if they could talk about it or not.

“Partners.” Mycroft nodded. Greg had often wondered if he should ask Mycroft to marry him. But Mycroft had made fun of the institution of marriage many times, and Greg’s first marriage was not something he wanted to repeat. “I just don’t want to face up to this, I was sure I did the right thing, what was best for everyone.” Greg intertwined their fingers. Normally Mycroft faced up to any problem the country found itself in, his personal life was quite different.

“I know you did your best.” The guilt was eating at Mycroft and all Greg could do was tell him he did his best and hold him. Through the doubt, the nightmares, the memories, that was all he could do.

“I could have done better.” Greg squeezed his hand.

“You are perfect.” Mycroft rolled his eyes at Greg’s words. Sometimes the man had the body language of a 14-year-old girl.

"Try telling Sherlock, my mother, John, Mrs Hudson, I don't think they will agree."

“Doesn’t matter, I’m right. Sherlock will come around when he settles down.” Mycroft shook his head and looked out across the water.

“The flat blew up, I did that.” It was a miracle they weren't all dead. Mycroft’s assistant had been the one to tell Greg that Mycroft was fine and off with his brother. Mycroft just ran off into hiding without the time or opportunity to contact anyone else. Greg had been so scared and angry that he had scared the woman.

"No, you didn't."

“Could just as well have done.” Greg was unsure if the touch of anger in Mycroft’s voice was because of what had happened of because he was being contradicted.

“That is not true and you know it.”

“And you know it is.” Mycroft locked eyes with the inspector. They were both stubborn and determined men when they knew they were right.

“You are not responsible for anyone’s actions but your own. Not Sherlock, not hers and not Moriarty.” It was a line of reasoning Mycroft had used often when something happened in one of Greg’s cases. When someone couldn’t be saved, when someone got shot, when they couldn’t catch a killer quickly enough.

“At this time darling logic fails me.”

“But you know I’m right.” Mycroft looked away.

“Really doesn’t help me now does it?” Greg kissed the back of Mycroft’s hand.

“Lunch might help, and then we’ll see if we can find Sherlock and John. I’ll come with.”

“You are too good for me.”

“Nothing is too good for you.”


	3. Nightmare

 

Greg was awoken by Mycroft talking in his sleep. No, not talking, fighting, definitely a nightmare. Mycroft jolted awake when Greg touched him. Mycroft practically jumped out of bed and stood there looking at Greg. “Mycroft it’s fine, you’re safe.” Greg moved to the end of the bed, as close as he could get to Mycroft without getting out of bed.

”I’m sorry Darling, go back to sleep. I’m fine.” Greg saw that Mycroft’s hand was shaking.

"No, you're not.”

"Just a nightmare, go back to sleep, I'll be back." Mycroft headed to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He looked horrible. Sleeping was the hardest thing he did. There was no way to control or divert his mind when he wasn’t conscious. The nightmares were, dramatic and frightening. Greg padded into the bathroom, his hair a mess and his face looking like a sleepwalker. He wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s torso. “Told you to go back to sleep.” Mycroft rested his hands on Greg’s. The older man looked just as tired and worn as Mycroft felt. Greg hadn’t slept through any of Mycroft’s nightmares, he should go home so the other man could get some sleep. Not that he would, he would stay with Greg for his own selfish needs.

“Do you want to talk about it?” In the sharp light of the bathroom talking about it was not on Mycroft’s preferred to do list; it made him feel like a child.

“No, are we going to talk about it anyway?”

“Just a bit.” Greg kissed Mycroft’s shoulder. “But you need rest, so not in here. Tea? Bed? Sofa?”

“Let’s go to bed, just give me a minute and I’ll come back.”

“Promise?” Mycroft had given Greg reason to doubt him these days, he had disappeared into his mind or kept to himself when he felt he couldn’t burden Greg with his thoughts.

"Yes, my love." When Greg left Mycroft washed the sweat of his neck and studied himself. He had always been able to lock away his nightmares, these would be hard to hide and bury. This was not the only time he had wished for Sherlock's ability to delete things. When Mycroft got back to bed Greg lay there waiting for him to lie down. In a position on his side where he could look into Mycroft’s eyes if he didn’t turn around. Mycroft mirrored Greg’s position but pulled his knees towards his chest. “I don’t know why he didn’t kill me.”

“Sherlock?” Greg’s hand sought Mycroft’s, but he pulled it away.

“Yes, I don’t understand why he didn’t. It would have been the logical choice, he has killed to protect John many times before, he would be rid of my meddling and how I haunt him…” In his dream Sherlock had shot himself to save Mycroft, and it made no sense to Mycroft. It ripped his heart out every time.

“You know he loves you?” Having to ask the question saddened Greg. Sherlock loved Mycroft, he saw him as the one who had raised him in many respects, the one that made sure he was alive. Sherlock hated it was well, and he did for some reason feel betrayed by Mycroft. Greg was better at reading emotions than the two Holmes boys.

“I know he despises me. I’m always getting in his way.”

“He loves you, under everything, the two of you just…” Greg moved his knees to touch Mycroft’s. “I don’t know, he just doesn’t know how to handle any of these things. For a while, John thought you were his only mother. Sherlock just, he loves you but I don’t know if he understands it.” Mycroft smiled at the silver haired man. In the dim light coming through the curtains from the streetlights, Mycroft could see how tired the other man was. Greg was not a Holmes, he needed much more sleep than they did.

“I think you give us Holmes too many human attributes my love.” Greg snort-laughed.

“I think, Sherlock thinks John is a dog, that’s why he likes him.” Mycroft started stroking Greg’s forearm that was still stretched out towards him.

“We need sleep, I’m fine.” Mycroft’s caress somehow seemed to slow Greg’s breathing, relaxing him.

"No, you're not."

"No, but not sleeping won't help anyone." Mycroft smiled as he watched Greg nod and his eyes close. Mycroft couldn't sleep, couldn't close his eyes in fear of Moriarty’s tic-tac invading his sleeping brain. Instead he watched Greg sleep and kept his mind focused on notes and finger movements, playing piano pieces in his mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> The next part will be dealing with the parents, I just have to finish it, it is definitely longer. Will be up on Saturday I hope.
> 
>  
> 
> If you need more piano music in your life, as I think Mycroft does I’ve been listening to Ludovico Einaudi’s albumUna Mattina for the past week


	4. Mummy dearest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being longer than I thought. I hope you like it.

One of the things Mycroft tried to do more than anything was to please his mother. It seemed like an impossible task to Greg. And these last family revelations had shed some light on why. Every time Mycroft went to see his parents he came back doubting himself. Greg was starting to puzzle this together. Mycroft had been the one taking much of the responsible for his siblings, even if his mother was smart she did not understand any of her children. He had in many ways done more of the parenting for them through the years than their parents thought necessary. Mycroft had been watching them when Victor disappeared, Greg had still not gotten the hang on where their parents were. Eurus had been the proper wonder child, even after killing someone and burning down the house. And when she was dead she could be idolised no matter what. Sherlock had not really been the baby, but intellectually and emotionally he was. He was the one who needed all the love and protection, and when his sister killed his best friend how can anyone compensate for that? Greg sat down on Mycroft's side of the bed with a cup of tea. Mycroft was pretending to be asleep, but Greg knew better. But at least he had been sleeping, for the first week it had been impossible to get Mycroft to sleep more than an hour or two fluxing between wanting to be held and being left alone. Greg traced the lines of Mycroft's neck, letting his fingers travel along his exposed collarbones. A smile ghosted over Mycroft's lips. "Are you sure you want to do this at the office?" Mycroft opened his eyes and looked up at his lover.

“Yes, I just need to keep some control and I am the boss in my office.” Mycroft rolled his shoulders stretching his back.

“I think you can be the boss of any room you step into.” Greg had seen it many times, he had even seen Mycroft walk into his crime scene and suddenly be the boss. Mycroft tried not to do that anymore, probably just to avoid a fight at home.

“Ah, but with Sherlock in the room, who is really the boss?” Sherlock was never really the boss, he was just impossible to ignore.

“That’s like saying who is really the boss with an infant in the room. It’s the baby, but only by terror.” Mycroft laughed. “I made you tea.”

“You are the most wonderful boyfriend.”

“Good, ‘cos you are stuck with me.” Mycroft had not been back to his house or the club since the night Greg had picked him up, this might be the beginning of living together. The thought had at least crossed Greg’s mind. Mycroft pulled Greg down for a kiss, spilling surprisingly little tea in the process.

"I love you so much." The tenderness in the kiss was much more than either of them had expected.

"I love you too. We have to get going soon. Victoria is dying to see you, even if she doesn't want you back at work yet." It had taken Greg a long time to get the assistants real name, she had been through most of the alphabet before she realised he wasn't going anywhere.

“Do you two talk about me?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

“No, we text. You spend all day with the woman, and you think I don’t talk to her?”

“Is this a jealous trait?” Mycroft tried not to smile. If Mycroft was interested in woman Victoria was probably the type of woman who could have interested Mycroft.

“No, it’s a ‘knowing you are safe’ trait. If I trusted you less I would be jealous of everyone. Get ready, I’ll make breakfast.” Greg was glad he wasn’t the jealous type. Greg moved to get up, but stopped as Mycroft spoke.

“I don’t really think I can eat.”

“You had breakfast before you organised peace talks last month, you are having breakfast today.”

“I’m feeling a lot more nauseous about today then I was then.”

“I promise it will be fine, no matter what happens we’ll get through. And Sherlock might be useful for ones.” Greg kissed him again. “Time to get ready.”

 

*-*-*

 

Breakfast had been a good idea, even if Mycroft didn’t like to admit it. It was what Mycroft did when he felt out of control, controlled his food. Greg drove, mostly because he though Mycroft might disrepair if he got the chance. As they stood in the elevator Greg decided it was time to get Mycroft’s mind to remember that this meeting with Sherlock and his parents was not the be all end all. “What do you want to do after?”

“After?” Mycroft looked confused as his mind raced to find out what came after this.

“Yeah, I’m not going to work, you are definitely not staying at the office. So we can go out and do something, or we can go home and curl up in bed for the rest of the day.”

“You are trying to distract me.” Mycroft turned to face the other man.

“I think I’m trying to get you into bed again, or take you out and then get you to bed.” Mycroft definitely cracked a smile.

“Maybe we’ll go for dinner, it depends on…” Mycroft trailed off and looked away.

“Your mother I guess.”

“Can you just think about after and not about my mother please.” Their eyes met again.

“I will, if you remember that her opinion isn’t the only ting that matters." The elevator doors slid open and a smiling Victoria welcomed them.

“Welcome Sir, Greg.”

“Victoria. When did you two become so familiar?” Mycroft seldom saw them together. She dropped Mycroft of and sometimes she picked up Greg, that should have been all. He had obviously not been paying attention.

"To be honest, when she decided to do a background check by breaking into my flat." Mycroft looked startled, how had he not known? He was getting too comfortable with the two, feeling he didn't need to deduce their every move.

“You are being dramatic. At least I didn’t kidnap you like the boss did.” The woman smiled, her phone still in her hand.

“Victoria.” Mycroft tried to look stern. “And I did Greg’s background check.”

“I didn’t really think you were unbiased in your judgement.” Mycroft rolled his eyes. “I’m glad to see you back, and I will be glad not to see you back until your leave is over.” Two weeks they hoped could be managed without him, but then again there was a possibility he would have to get back earlier. It had been a lot easier for Greg to get his two weeks.

“We’re keeping her.” Greg whispered into Mycroft’s ear. After Marry died Sherlock had told them that he was just as bad with unhappy families as he was with the concept of happy families. Greg had realised that the Mycroft was even worse, he had lived with everything Sherlock had suppressed. So he decided they should have their own family. One with no bullies for Mycroft to disappoint, even if Sherlock would be staying no matter what. Mycroft would to anything to keep Sherlock safe, and that wouldn’t change.

"Thank you, Victoria, I'm glad you are keeping everything in hand." Victoria glanced down at her phone.

"Your parents just arrived downstairs, but Sherlock is another 5 minutes away." Mycroft grimaced, of course, they were early and Sherlock was almost running late.

“Time to get going then.” Mycroft somehow made himself seem taller.

“We’ll be getting some coffee, so just let me know when I should pick you up again if we’re not back.” Mycroft kissed Greg quickly before he put his game face on. Greg watched him as the man in front of him turned his face to the smooth mask he normally used for everything that wasn't family.

“Come on Greg.” Victoria pulled Greg out of Mycroft’s personal space and over to her desk. ”Watching him in action can be fun.” Greg did agree. Sometimes Mycroft took him to work dinners, every time it was appropriate. Not as a plus one, but as a police officer. Watching the iceman in all his smooth workings could be wonderful, especially when Greg could unravel him completely afterwards. The elevator slowly opened to reveal Mycroft’s parents.

“Mummy, father.” Mycroft kissed his mother’s cheek.

“Mike this was a surprise, I don’t think we have ever been here.” His mother looked curious around the room. She looked like the nicest old lady, but Greg did not know her, just how Mycroft was when he came back.

“No I don not think so, I just couldn’t get away to do this anywhere else. Sherlock will be here shortly. Let’s go through to my office.” Mycroft gestured to the door.

"How is everything? How's your diet?" Greg could see a twitch between Mycroft shoulder blades as she mentioned it. The door closed behind them before Greg could hear the answer.

“He’s been watching a lot of noir films lately, I could have some delivered to your flat if you like.” Greg sent the woman a puzzled look. “If you were planning on something more then getting him into bed as you put it.”

“I was sure the elevator wasn’t bugged…”

“No, but there is a camera, and I do read lips.” Greg smiled.

“You really shouldn’t do that, might say something you won't like.” Victoria overlooked the comment completely.

“I’ll have some sent over, and make a dinner reservation…” They were interrupted by Sherlock.

“I’m not late.” He concluded as he entered. A sure sign that he was sure he was late.

"Well everyone is already here." Greg couldn’t resist.

“Good.” Sherlock headed to the door.

“Sherlock.” Greg stopped him. “Mycroft did what he thought was best to shield you all.”

“He lied Greg.” Sherlock emphasised his name. Greg realised it wasn’t so much that Sherlock forgot his name as it was a way to keep the older man off balance.

“But not to hurt anyone, he just did what he thought was best. And he’s going to need some support in there.” One could see Sherlock thinking before he sighed dramatically.

"You are my brother's keeper." He bowed gently as if taking an order.

“I am, and your parents could eat him alive.”

“Don’t be dramatic. No one will eat Mycroft without spitting him out quickly.”

"For ones Sherlock, he has always looked after you, and kept your worst secrets from them, he lets you act like a spoiled child, just give him this."

"We'll see how this goes. I had a feeling he had gotten himself a goldfish." Sherlock surprised Greg by not slamming the door.

 

*-*-*

 

Mycroft sat behind his desk, it gave him protection, and a feeling of authority the others in the room probably didn’t register. Sherlock had entered the room, mumbled something about goldfish and refused to sit. All in all, he was being Sherlock.

“It is lovely to see you both, but what are we doing here?” Their mother looked around the room. “Gloomy don’t you think?”

“It suits my work very well.” Mycroft said, Sherlock met his eye. "We are here because there has been an incident, with many casualties and fatalities. On the back of it, I have to confess that I have deceived you all.” There was only one way to get through this, quickly. “Years ago I told you our sister had died in a fire when in reality she did not." Mycroft took a breath and watched Sherlock who was studying him. "She did set a fire, and prior to that, she had gotten two of her carers to kill themselves. She was getting worse, more violent, and she had to be moved. The one place that should have kept her secure did not, and over the last mounts she killed a handful of people, and almost killed John Watson, Sherlock and myself as well. She is a danger to everyone. She is now contained, but I have to inform you that Eurus is still alive." The room went silent. Mycroft was surprised, Sherlock didn't feel the need to comment, mock, make it more dramatic.

“Alive for all these years?! How is that even possible?!” His mother had always underestimated what he could do in his position. That might be why she felt his working in the government was a disappointment. Mycroft wondered if she was disappointed that he didn’t become PM or something trivial like that.

“What Uncle Rudi began, I thought it best to continue.”

“I'm not asking how you did it, idiot boy," The words stung more than they should, without his intellect there was not much to him. "I'm asking how could you?!” How could he? She was dangerous, and they wouldn’t stop seeing her. She had an obsession with Sherlock who had deleted every memory of her. She was why he was a detective, why he didn't make human connections. He did it to protect them, to shield them from what she had become. To keep everyone safe.

“I was trying to be kind." That was the praise Greg used about not speaking the truth in his deductions."

“Kind?! Kind?! You told us that our daughter was dead!”

“Better that than tell you what she had become. I'm sorry.” She was everything the drugs and loneliness had made Sherlock, just cleverer, with no concept of other people's suffering or emotions, and of course a notorious killer.  

“Whatever she became, whatever she is now, Mycroft, she remains our daughter.” His father’s words were sobering. That was why he had done what he did, better the memories than the truth.

“And my sister.” Why he couldn’t leave her to others completely. Why there were visits and Christmas presents. Why he couldn’t have her killed to protect them all. Sentiment, caring, feelings, it was in the end not an advantage.

“Then you should have done better." That could be his mother's favourite phrase. He couldn't make Eurus better, he couldn't get them to stop seeing her, he couldn't stop her killing, he hadn't realized that she was going to burn down the house, he wasn't able to find Sherlock's friend, he hadn't been able to stop her from torturing and tormenting Sherlock. The number of things he should have done better was endless. But knowing and understanding his mistakes was also one of the things that made him the best at his job.

“He did his best." He had expected Sherlock to, if not make it worse for him, stay quiet and sulk. That he said something in Mycroft's defence was wonderful, amazing. Maybe he wasn't clean yet.

“Then he's very limited.“ At one point Mrs Hudson had said that in the end family is all we have. A bit rich coming from someone who had married a drug dealer. At this point he was sure she was wrong, and that with family caring really wasn’t an advantage. Caring was the root to all of this. Sherlock should keep sentiment out of his work, and Mycroft should keep it out of his family life. But he had spent most of his life protecting Sherlock, he couldn't see how he would change that. Sherlock would make it easy until he needed something. John would look after him, until Sherlock did something stupid and really needed John. Greg would look after Sherlock at work, but he could never ask Greg to do that outside of work. Mycroft had never been limited, he was just held up against the ghost of his sister’s intellect. Mycroft reassembled his mask, his armour. This was enough. He built and broke governments for a living; being called an idiot by his mother was not something he should have to deal with.

“Where is she?” He met his father's eyes.

“Back in Sherrinford. Secure this time. People have died. Without doubt, she will kill again if she has the opportunity. There's no possibility she'll ever be able to leave.” There was no room to discuss that.

“When can we see her?” A part of Mycroft wanted to scream. She could kill them. Sherlock had pretended to be dead for two years because she had tried to have him killed. She had tried to have Sherlock kill him as a part of an experiment. Why didn't that matter? Why wouldn’t that matter even if he explained everything? No one had been safe from her. Instead, he heard cold controlled words leave his lips.

“There's no point.”

“How dare you say that?!” Because he couldn’t have her killed now that Sherlock knew. He could have done it this time.

“She won't talk. She won't communicate with anyone in any way. She has passed beyond our view. There are no words that can reach her now.” At least that made her less of a risk.

“Sherlock? Well? You were always the grown-up. What do we do now?” Mycroft closed his eyes. He had spent all this time looking after Sherlock, covering up his mistakes. Everyone but their parents saw Sherlock as a spoiled child, and Mycroft was the one who had let him become that.

“If anyone can take care of this it is Mycroft.” Sherlock met his mother’s eyes. He was actually trying to protect Mycroft, this might be a first.

“Obviously not.” Their mother snapped. “He’s at fault for this in the first place.” Her words were venomous to Mycroft, poison in his blood.

"Enough!" Mycroft said clearly. Mycroft's face and posture were not of the son and brother they knew, this was the man who dealt with world leaders and terrorists alike. "This is a security question and it will be dealt with in a proper way. She's killed a lot of people and stopping her from doing that again is our main concern."

“How dare you idiot boy? This is family and you won't contact us again until you have found a way for us to see her.” His mother was practically barking. Mycroft was burning up inside, but his look and voice were cold as ice.

“Then I fear it will be a long time until we speak again.”

“Mike?” She looked at him in disbelief, they all did. Mycroft never really said no to his mother.

“Threatening me does not change the facts.” This was the first time Sherlock had seen Mycroft use his intimidating face on their parents and he looked more shocked than Mycroft thought possible.

“Mycroft.” His father tried to object.

“I think it is time for me to get back to my work and for you all to leave.” Sherlock opened the door and held it for his parents as they left. “Sherlock?” Mycroft’s voice was not as hard when he spoke his brother’s name. Sherlock half closed the door and turned around. “Thank you.” A bit of Mycroft’s mask fell as it always did around Sherlock.

“You did what you thought best. There was no reason for her to yell at you.”

“Thank you.”

“I promised her to bring her home.”

“It’s not going to happen Sherlock.”

“I know, be a good big brother and see if you can think of something clever.”

“You should take care of John and Rosy instead of the woman who almost killed John.” Mycroft answered coldly, Sherlock shrugged and left. Bloody sentiment.

 

*-*-*

 

Sherlock had left sulking, Greg met him on his way up. When he came into Mycroft's office the desk was covered in papers and files. It looked very much like working.

“Ready to go?” Greg stood in the doorway, Victoria was off working so they were alone.

“I think I should stay and work for a while.” Mycroft’s voice was flat and he didn’t look up from his papers. Greg closed the door behind him. This must have gone very badly.

“No love, you are coming home.”

“Gregory, I think I’m very capable of taking care of my own schedule. The world doesn’t stop because of my failures.” Greg closed the door behind him.

“Mycroft this is…” Greg walked up to the desk. Mycroft interrupted him.

"Just leave me to my work, I have things to sort out." No emotion. No nothing. His voice was even, his eyes were cold as if he had turned something off.

"No way." Greg moved around the desk and turned the chair around so they were facing each other. "You can't shut me out, you are not allowed." There was something desperate in Greg's very loud words.

"I can do whatever I damn well please." Mycroft bit back, at least there was heat in his voice. Greg leant in and kissed Mycroft, there was a desperate force in the kiss. Loving and consuming at ones. Greg’s hands were still on the armrests. It took Mycroft a second to react and return the kiss, and then another second to push him away. Greg stayed close, he could feel Mycroft’s breath on his face. Mycroft head was tilted forward with his eyes closed. Hurt and pain written clearly on his face. At least Greg had broken through the mask.

“I’m sorry love.” Greg mumbled.

“No, I’m sorry. Just hold me please.” Greg wrapped his arms around the other man at a strange angle. He could feel Mycroft shaking slightly, definitely crying. He wrapped his arms around Greg as if his life depended on it.

"It'll be fine love, everything will be ok." Greg spoke softly into his ear.

“Nothing will ever be ok.” Greg slowly pulled him to the floor so he could hold him properly.

“I promise we will find our way through this.” Greg had practically pulled the slender man into his lap.

“I’m so sorry. There is nothing I can do. If I had known I would change things.” Greg realised Mycroft wasn’t really talking to him. “if I had paid proper attention she wouldn’t been able to take Victor, I should have watched them. If I’d been clever I would have understood the song, I should have looked after her.”

“Shush shush.” Greg kissed his head. “None of this is your fault, none of this should have been your responsibility, you were just a kid.” If Sherlock hadn’t behaved Greg would kill him. He kept mumbling sweet nothings into Mycroft’s hair. Mycroft’s breathing evened out after a while, but he didn’t let up on his grip around Greg’s ribs. “Love, you never need to hide from me, I will always be there.”

"I just." Mycroft didn't move. He knew somewhere in his brain that the hug from Greg was reducing the panic, that was chemistry. "It is too much, all of it. I can't fix it. I’m so stupid, but I'm not stupid. I just want to disrepair."

“That’s why we are on leave. You are the smartest man I know, and we can go home, close the blinds and hide from the world for a bit longer.” Greg really didn’t mind another night at home, anything really that calmed Mycroft.

“They said I shouldn’t contact them again until I found a way they could meet her.” Mycroft buried his face in Greg’s neck. “She said this was all my fault.”

“She is wrong my love, you know that. My brilliant Mycroft.” Greg pulled Mycroft closer. “We’ll take all the time you need.” The silence that fell around them was comfortable, familiar.

“I don’t deserve you.” Mycroft’s words were barely audible.

“Yes you do, and you are not getting rid of me.” Greg kissed what he could get his lips on without shifting. “You are deserving of everything I can give you, if you didn’t find it so stupid I would I would ask you to marry me.” He said without thinking, there was a flash of panic in Greg’s mind. He could feel Mycroft’s body stiffen.

“Please don’t ask." Greg was surprised at his disappointment at Mycroft's words even if he hadn't planned on asking.

“Of course not.” He didn’t ask, instead he stroked Mycroft’s back.

“What if I think she is right?”

“Then I’ll show you she’s wrong, one day at a time. Does Sherlock think she is right?” Mycroft shook his head. “For ones he is right.” They fell into silence again, both of them losing track of time.

“Can we go home?” Mycroft’s words came out of nothing.

“Anytime you want.” Mycroft didn’t move. Greg nuzzled the younger man's hair. "Home, something to drink, orange shock blanket." Mycroft chuckled and moved from Greg's lap.

“I can’t go out like this.” Mycroft’s face was tearstained and his eyes puffy.

“You’ll be fine, I’m guessing no one will be there on out way out.” Greg took Mycroft’s hand as they walked out to Victoria.

“I have had your car pulled around back.” Greg was not going to ask how she had been able to move his car, he didn’t want to know. “I have ordered dinner to be delivered to your flat in an hour and the films we talked about should be there already." Greg had always wondered if working with Mycroft rubbed off or if she was this clever.

“Thank you.” Mycroft said, that also meant they could slip out without the risk of meeting anyone.

"Anytime Sir." Greg and Victoria shared a knowing look. He was thankful she was so loyal and caring, everything he wanted Mycroft to have when he wasn’t around.

 

*-*-*

 

Greg had stripped Mycroft of his coat, jacket and vest as soon as they were through the door. The younger man had instantly taken it as more than Greg had planned. For a while Mycroft had been kissing Greg desperately, tugging at every piece of Greg's clothes he could get his hands on. But before he could actually get any of them of he pulled back into himself. Greg had learned the drill over the last days. Want, the desperate need to feel alive, shame, fare, self-deprivation. Mycroft would cling, kiss and claw at him only to pull back and hide from Greg’s touch. Greg knew Mycroft well enough to not be surprised or insulted. Want, need, deserve. And Mycroft didn’t feel he deserved it. Getting Mycroft to believe that he had done nothing wrong would take time, time he definitely had. Greg had actually wrapped him in an orange blanket on the sofa as he looked through the movies that had been waiting by the door. He knew a few of them but hadn’t seen any, this was Mycroft’s private thing, he had never really shared it. Greg moved them to the coffee table and kissed the top of Mycroft’s head. “Do you want to watch one of them?”

“You could just choose one, my head is not in it today.” Mycroft looked up at him.

“Tea, wine, water?“

“Wine only if you let me get drunk.” Greg was surprised, it wasn’t often Mycroft wanted to lose control of his brain.

“I don’t think that would be good for you today.” The doorbell rang, it was the food Victoria had ordered. Pie, mash, and all the trimmings. Sticky toffee pudding and custard. Comfort food, it looked like things he normally could get Mycroft to eat easily. Greg found plates and cutlery, he poured two glasses of wine. Mycroft shouldn't get drunk, but slowing down that brain a bit wouldn't hurt. He saw Mycroft cringe as he put the food down. Mycroft took the glass and held it with both hands.

“Would it be ok if I just… I’m not hungry.”

“You just don’t want to eat.”

“Greg please, just give me this.” The most disturbing thing about Mycroft’s eating was how controlled it was. He could just stop eating, and then control exactly how much he needed to keep his body and mind going. So little it scared Greg half to death when he lost weight, but enough, at the right times, so no one at work questioned him. Greg curled up on the sofa, resting his chin against Mycroft's shoulder so he could nuzzle his ear.

"Love you know it won't help, and if you start you know how hard it is to quit. I really don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I'm so tired. I don't think my body can handle the strain of digesting anything." It wasn't that late, this was way too early for dinner on a normal day. But the time of day, meals and sleep patterns were thrown out the window these days. Film, food, sleep, that was the plan."

“Your body needs some fuel. You don’t have to eat it all, just have some." Greg shifted and cupped Mycroft's face and turned it towards him. "You, my brilliant, perfect Mycroft should not harm yourself, you are the most precious thing I have and should be well taken care of always." Mycroft tried to turn his head away. “You know I’m serious, you know I love you.” Mycroft studied him. He had done it a million times, deduced that Greg loved him, just to be sure. And it was always written clearly on his face, it had taken Mycroft time to learn what it was, but it had been there for a long time.

"Ok." Greg let go of Mycroft who emptied half the wineglass before starting to poke his food with the fork. Greg put the top DVD into the player and actually ate his food. Mycroft ate a bit, not as much as Greg would like but when Greg had finished his Mycroft curled up next to him and watched the film. “I love your heart.” Mycroft’s head was resting against Greg’s chest.

"It loves you too." He felt Mycroft's delicate fingers under his shirt and resting just below his ribs. Greg smiled and hoped they would stay like this.

“I just want to feel you.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, these days…” His words drifted off and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say.

“Don’t be sorry. You have picked me up and helped me through so many times. Being there for you is a privilege love, it lets me know that you trust me even when it is hard. And I know that’s hard for you.”

“I’ll do better.”

"Do you remember the case with the kids last year?" Mycroft just nodded. Greg had misjudged a situation. A woman had been killed and Greg did not believe that the husband was involved. It had turned out that it was a homicide-suicide the man had chickened out of, and when given a bit more time he killed their two young daughters and himself. Greg had been so close to quitting his job. “You helped me through that, no conditions and no expectations of anything in return, now it is my turn. No matter how much time it takes. I know you aren’t properly used to being taken care of, but I think you’ll get used to it.”

"I don't know if this will pass." The images in Mycroft's mind wouldn't be locked down. He had found a room for them in his mind, but they wouldn't stay there they were everywhere.

”Then we’ll find a way to handle it.” Mycroft loved Greg but he was too emotionally spent to deal with his positivity. Not everything would be OK, this might be one of the unfixable things.

”Let’s just watch the movie, it is a good one.” The older man just nodded and made sure Mycroft was comfortable resting against his chest. Greg enjoyed the movie, especially when Mycroft couldn’t help himself and spoke the lines out loud. Maybe they could do his together in the future. Mycroft fell asleep before the movie was over. Waking him to get to bed was out of the question; they could deal with stiff necks and backs later. Greg just pulled the blanket over them, and when the movie was over he tried to sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so sorry for Mycroft you have no idea. I think there is going to be one more chapter, it'll be up as soon as I finish it.


	5. In the end

“Honestly Gregory, I’m not a child.” Mycroft stood in the hallway of Greg’s flat. His face red and wearing his running clothes. One layer short of a sensible outfit for a winter run. Greg was livid, if he’d had John’s temper Mycroft would be pushed up against the wall by now. Mycroft had gone into defence mode the moment he saw Greg’s eyes.

“That’s not what I’m saying, but you can’t just disrepair like that. Not after everything that had happened.” Greg had gone to the shops, after staying inn for two days they needed some groceries. When he had returned Mycroft was nowhere to be found. No sign of where he had gone, no note of any kind. It was probably one of those things the Holmes boys could deduce, but Greg couldn’t. He had texted Victoria to see if she knew where he was, she had probably sat heaven and earth in motion to find him, at least MI5.

“I went for a run Gregory. You weren’t here. I needed to clear my head, Sherlock is acting like an impatient child.” The day after their meeting with their parents Sherlock had started bombarding Mycroft with texts. Questions and ideas about Eurus. He had ignored the first 10 texts, which only made it worse. When he finally answered and told Sherlock to take care of John and Rosie, and talk to Molly it had gotten so bad he had turned off the sound and notifications from Sherlock. It had left Mycroft in a horrible mood. Greg had asked John to get Sherlock to stop, but John didn’t suffer much love for Mycroft and didn’t seem to help.

“You could at least left a note.” It was not too much to ask for Mycroft to act like a human being and remember that he wasn't alone.

“I thought it was obvious. And I didn’t know you were babysitting me.” Mycroft crossed his arms across his chest.

"I'm not babysitting you. God, sometimes you are so much like your brother. I was just scared, ok? It wasn't obvious to me. I'm just a dumb copper, I’m not a bloody genius like you. You spent all morning locked in your mind, and when I come back you are gone. Any number of things could have happened.” Greg should not have likened Mycroft to Sherlock, he knew better, normally it set the other man off.

"I'm sorry Gregory." And the younger man looked it. In an instant he had gone from full battle mode to letting his guard go completely. Mycroft's hands were shaking slightly, his hair was sweaty and he had obviously pushed himself harder than he normally did when running. He had been trying to get his mind to disconnect from his body through pushing it to its limit. Greg crossed the floor, closed the gap between them and placed a kiss on the side of Mycroft's neck. His skin tasted of salt and Mycroft.

“Running is good love, but you scared me.” Greg rested his head against Mycroft’s shoulder.

“I think we might have found a solution.” Of course they had, bloody Holmes brains. Not at all capable of taking care of them self and each other, but give them a problem and they solved it in a day.

“That was quick.” Greg spoke into Mycroft’s neck, letting the younger man rest his head.

“Sherlock has taken an interest, when that happens one has to be quick or you’ll never get any work done.”

“You are on leave.” Mycroft pulled back and looked at Greg to try to see what the other man meant.

“And Sherlock is not work. But he won’t leave me alone to do anything at all until I solve whatever he's working on." Mycroft dragged his hand over his face. "His interest in out sister is, unsettling." In Greg’s opinion everything to do with their sister was unsettling.

“I really thought he would have other things to handle at this point. Like baby proofing Baker street.”

“Well, I would hope so, but he is what he is.”

"You won't listen if I tell you to stop thinking about Sherlock and take care of yourself will you?" Greg stroked Mycroft’s arm. The fabric was slightly cool even if he felt Mycroft’s body heat.

“That would be a lot easier if he stopped texting constantly.” Mycroft wasn’t sure if it was annoying or hurtful that Sherlock suddenly had decided to take an interest in something family related. Maybe there had always been something special between his two younger siblings. Eurus had always been slightly obsessed with Sherlock, and now he wanted to do his best to keep his promise to her. If Sherlock had ever worked this hard to keep the promises he had made to Mycroft their lives would have been a lot cleaner. Mycroft had learned to live with the fact that addicts lie, and Sherlock was brilliant at that.

"It's Sherlock, nothing could make you stop trying to give him whatever he wants." Greg knew the other man very well. One of the things that compensated for being just a dumb copper, a clever dumb copper.

“Stop pointing out my flaws Gregory.” There was a very tried but warning tone in Mycroft’s voice.

“It’s not a flaw love, it’s one of the things that makes you wonderful.” Trying to get Mycroft to accept that his feelings were not a defect was hard work.

“The fact that you love me for my faults doesn’t make me any less flawed.” Mycroft kissed Greg before he walked away to take his shoes off. “I’m sorry I didn’t think about you before I left. I know things aren’t as obvious as I think, you are as you very well know surprisingly smart for a cop.” He stepped past Greg to the living room. Greg just stood there, looking at him.

“Mycroft?” Something in his voice made Mycroft turn and look at him. “Am I a mistake to you? A flaw?” Mycroft studied Greg. The other man was no mistake, he was a calculated risk. He hadn’t been able to stay away from Greg even if he tried. Sentiment was a flaw to Mycroft, but that didn’t make caring for Greg a mistake. He wouldn’t change his relationship with Greg for anything in the world.

“No, you are not a mistake. My work and how I have chosen to organise my life makes these things, complicated. You are a pressure point, and someone could decide to use you to get to me, so you would probably be safer without me. But I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” Greg smiled. “And unlike Sherlock caring about you has rewards and isn’t mostly about making sure you are still alive. You are not my little brother, you are my partner.” It had taken Mycroft a long time to really understand that he had to say things to Greg, it wasn't like with Sherlock where they could practically have a conversation without opening their mouths. Mycroft had never understood why the silver fox whom Mycroft was sure could have any man or woman he wanted decided to stay with him. Mycroft was in his own view a not very attractive man, who could be cold, knew little about what made a relationship work, never left his job and travelled extensively. Greg saying he would marry him if he had the chance was now etched into his mind and made the facts no less confusing. “Do you see me as one of your mistakes?” Mycroft had let Greg see him at his worst, again, he wouldn’t be surprised if that had changed how the older man saw him. Greg frowned at the question.

“No.” Falling for the younger man had been intense. Falling into bed with him one night Sherlock od’ed. Greg trying to make his marriage work, or at least figuring out what he wanted. Mycroft not wanting a relationship, or anything that would complicate his existence. It had taken them a long time to get here, and he took Mycroft with all he was. “God no.” Greg shook his head. He should have had this conversation some other time, Mycroft looked cold. “You should take a shower before you get sick.” Running outside during the winter was not something Greg liked, and Mycroft had not been wearing enough clothes. Mycroft shouldn’t be standing there talking to him when he was cold and sweaty. Mycroft kissed him.

"Do not doubt your place in my heart and my life." Mycroft took Greg's hand and lead him back to the living room, “I’m going to take a shower. You can join me, or you can get some rest, you need it just as much as I do.” Greg wasn’t sure if he meant the shower or rest, he just followed Mycroft with a goofy smile.

 

*-*-*

 

Mycroft got 12 days of leave. It was a lot more then Greg had thought they would get. 12 days before Mycroft’s phone rang early in the morning, before they had any intention of getting out of bed. It was the first time ever Mycroft had answered a work call in bed with Greg in it.

“Madam prime minister.” There was something unnaturally sweet about Mycroft’s voice. That surprised Greg, Mycroft had at least liked the woman before she became PM. Greg made sure not to overhear her end of the conversation. “Yes we have been following the situation closely, and even if we find it worrying I’m not sure there is anything we can do about it.” There was a long silence while Mycroft listened. The younger man absentmindedly traced patterns on Greg’s skin. “Certainly, if that is you wish. I’ll make the arrangements and be with you as soon as possible.” Greg’s phone vibrated, it was Victoria. ‘ _He’s fine to travel right?”_ Greg looked at his boyfriend as he listened to the PM. He looked calm, a small smile on his lips. The last days had done wonders, not fixing the problems but both of them had found their footing again. Their eyes met and Mycroft smiled, a real smile, the ones he only really saw when they were alone. Greg probably looked a bit worried. _‘He is always ready when needed. Just take good care of him.’_ “It will be taken care of, and I’ll be with you as soon as I can.” Mycroft ended the call. “I have some work to do.”

"I thought the PM was in the US?" Mycroft moved so he looked down at Greg and lifted an eyebrow at Greg's question. "I'm not looking for state secrets, I'm just a pleb who watches the news.” Mycroft smiled and kissed him.

“It’ll just be a couple of days I expect.” Mycroft said not really answering the question. Greg had expected Mycroft to go back to work a couple of days ago when he watched the news with his ‘this will be a handful frown'. “You can get a couple of full nights of sleep, you need it.”

“Are you sure you are up for this?”

“Yes Gregory, I’m fine to go back to work. I don’t let sentiment get in the way there. And both the PM and the queen are harder to disappoint then mummy.” There was a joking tone to Mycroft’s voice. Greg looked sceptical.

"Mycroft." Greg called the younger man's bluff, he meant what he told Victoria but he wanted to be sure Mycroft had thought this trough.

“Darling, I know I’m not fine, but I know I can do my job perfectly well.” Mycroft let one hand move from Greg’s neck to his chest. “Victoria will keep an eye on me, and it will be good to put my mind to some use.”

"I'm sure the stability of the western world is safe in your hands. Just call me ok? I'll worry, and I'll want to know how you are doing. Even if I know you are brilliant and capable of just about anything." The warmth in Greg's eyes took Mycroft's breath away. He tried to pour all his caring for Greg into a kiss. Greg pulled him down on top of him and ran his fingers through the hair on the back of Mycroft’s head. “Make your arrangements and I’ll make breakfast.” Even if it was a long trip Greg wouldn’t be the one to delay Mycroft.

“Can you make pancakes?” Greg was always happy to cook for Mycroft, and at times like this happier than when everything was all right in the world.

“It’s good to know that the world isn’t about to end.” Greg joked. “I’ll make you all the pancakes you like.”

“The world will not end because I decide to have pancakes with my boyfriend, not today at least.” Greg pulled Mycroft back into a kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Trump put an end to Mycroft's leave...
> 
> Thank you for all your feedback, I’d completely forgotten how fun it is to share work. The last chapter. It made me want to write about how they got together. But during this week I got a new job so I should probably focus on moving.


End file.
